


Sins Of The Father

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Accidental Incest, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26542306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: Written for the kinkmeme prompt: "John is alive somehow and on a mission Alex ends up meeting him and they end up fucking. Maybe it's a quick fuck fuelled by adrenaline, maybe Alex is held at gunpoint and told to fuck this stranger, maybe John lost his morals at some point and dubcons this teenager. Point is, they only find out who the other person is AFTER the sex."Locked up and about to be shot, Alex realises his only means of escape is to let the guard fuck him.(Bonus chapter two after Alex gets home and has to face what happened, Alex/Yassen existing relationship).
Relationships: Alex Rider/John Rider, Yassen Gregorovich/Alex Rider
Comments: 15
Kudos: 87
Collections: Alex Rider Kinkmeme





	1. Chapter 1

The cell was stiflingly hot, the stone walls running with moisture. There were creepers pushing through the bars of the window, although not strongly enough to loosen them. The room was mostly empty, holding nothing but a wooden bench, a bucket for the necessary, and one increasingly pissed off nineteen year old. 

Alex had exhausted the room’s escape opportunities within minutes, but that hadn’t stopped him going over and over the possibilities for the full ten hours he’d been locked up in it. He had come to the tiresome conclusion that the only way out was through the door, and that was reliant on somebody else opening it.

He had no friends here he could count on. Even assuming he’d had the means, he wouldn’t have been able to call for back-up. This mission, as so many others, officially wasn’t happening. Full deniability. If Alex simply didn’t come back, there would be no funeral with military honours. Alex who?

So it was up to him. Presumably they didn’t mean to starve him to death, which meant sooner or later somebody would come along. The guards here were all mercenaries, which was good. It meant he could potentially buy his way out. 

Eventually there were footsteps outside and a key rattled in the lock. A man glared in at him, dropped a tray of food none too carefully on the floor, and started to slam the door closed again.

“Wait!” Alex was torn between rushing the door and negotiating his way out. He could potentially overpower the man in front of him but he had no idea how many more were outside. He needed information as much as anything. He forced a smile. “What’s the rush?”

The guard scowled at him. “I’m not paid to chat. Just be grateful you’re getting fed.”

Alex blinked. “You’re British?” That was a surprise, down here in the middle of the jungle. The other guards he’d encountered so far, and had the bruises to prove it, had been a mixture of German and South African. All far from home. All, hopefully, potentially bribable. But the unexpected sound of home gave him a brief jolt of hope. 

“What’s it to you?” He sounded bored more than unfriendly, and Alex hurriedly kept talking, hoping to hold his interest long enough to see how open to bargaining he was.

“What’s your name?” 

“John.” 

Alex kept the smile plastered on. It was obviously a fake name, and he resisted the urge to retort ‘Smith, presumably?’ 

“Hi. I’m Alex.”

This, somehow, prompted a flicker of interest, and the man closed and locked the cell door, this time with him on the inside. 

“You’re very chatty for someone’s who’s getting shot in the morning.”

This was news to Alex, and he swallowed. “No rush, eh? Look, you seem like a reasonable man. What do you say we work something out?”

“What did you have in mind?” John was leaning back against the door now, deceptively casual but Alex could see he was still alert. This man had had a decent training, he realised. Better than the basic military drill of the others he’d encountered. He wondered who he was, how he’d ended up here. One more Special Operations burn-out, perhaps. 

“I propose a basic exchange,” Alex suggested. “You let me out, I make it worth your while.”

“How?”

“I can pay. Whatever you want. More than they’re paying you.”

John shrugged. “What am I going to spend it on, out here?”

“I can pay you enough to go somewhere else.” 

“Maybe I like it here?”

Alex gritted his teeth. The man couldn’t be holding out for more money, Alex had essentially offered him a blank cheque. But on the other hand he hadn’t left yet either, which must mean there was something Alex could offer him. He just had to find it.

“Why don’t you tell me what you do want then?” Alex suggested.

John considered him, eyes playing up and down his body with an intensity that made Alex uncomfortable. The boy reminded him of himself at that age. He even looked a bit like him. Full of misplaced confidence and the belief everything would turn out for the best. He’d learn soon enough that the world wasn’t like that. Maybe John could speed things up.

He pushed himself off the door. “Perhaps I’m lonely. Maybe you could help with that?”

Alex swallowed. He didn’t think John was looking for a penpal.

“Why don’t you come with me then?” he said. “We could leave together. Go somewhere with plenty of – company.”

“Maybe I’m happy where I am,” John countered. “Seems to me you’re the only one who wants out. And maybe for that, you’re going to have to be nice to me?” He cupped his crotch suggestively, just in case Alex hadn’t got the point yet. 

Alex took a shuddering breath, steadied himself. There were worse things. It would hardly be the first cock he’d sucked, although the other times had been decidedly more on his own terms.

“I suck you off, you let me go, right?”

“Sure kid. You make it good enough.”

Alex nodded, looking somehow equally uncertain and determined. 

John unzipped his fly and took out his cock. He was already hard, and Alex swallowed down the taste of bile. He could do this. Just don’t think about it. 

“On your knees then.” 

Alex did as he was told. The floor of the cell was slimy, and he quickly felt it seeping through his trousers. Still. It was hardly the worst sensation he’d have to endure in the next few minutes. 

John stepped forward and Alex opened his mouth obediently. Forced himself not to flinch as John’s cock pushed between his lips. It was thick and veiny and the faint taste of piss immediately made him want to retch.

Alex reached down and pinched the inside of his own thigh, concentrating on the pain instead, breathing through his nose, letting John fuck his mouth. The older man was using him vigorously, sawing in and out of Alex’s mouth until he was almost gagging on every thrust. 

It must end soon, Alex thought, the man was going at it so fast he would surely climax any moment. All Alex had to do was endure another minute or so. He would spit if he was able, but even being made to swallow was still better than death by firing squad. He tried not to think about disease or where else the man’s prick might have been lately. 

Just as Alex was convinced it must soon all be over, John pulled right out of his mouth. Alex was surprised, having expected the man to want to come in his mouth, but braced himself for a face full instead. 

“Get up.” 

Alex looked up, surprised. “What?”

“I said get up. You’re making me do all the work here. Undo your trousers.”

Alex got to his feet, feeling cold despite the sweltering tropical heat. “No. That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Well I’m the one making this deal, and I just changed the terms,” John said firmly. “Drop ‘em. And bend over.”

Alex weighed up his chances. He was a good fighter, but he sensed this man was too. And John was also armed, and a lot better rested. Alex had endured a long trek to get here, had the stuffing knocked out of him when he’d got caught, and then spent ten hours in a stifling cell without food or water. 

He could fight, but the odds were against him winning. Or he could do what the man wanted, and hope he kept his word.

“Fine.” Alex undid his belt and trousers resentfully, shoving them down to his knees along with his underwear.

“Good boy. Smart decision.” John gave him an amused smile of approval. “Don’t you worry, I’ll keep my end up.” He palmed himself lewdly, clearly pleased with the double meaning.

Alex turned his back on him, and bent over the bench. Every fibre of his being was telling him to fight this, but realistically it was his only chance of escape. And he’d endured actual torture. He could do this. 

The feeling of John’s cock being forced inside him was almost enough to change his mind. The only lubrication was Alex’s own saliva but the pain was almost secondary to the knowledge of what was happening to him, the knowledge that he was allowing it. 

Behind him he heard John spit into his hand, felt him working it in as he drove between Alex’s cheeks. Alex braced himself on the bench and closed his eyes, trying to breathe, trying to pretend it was someone he cared about. He was no virgin, but this was like nothing he’d ever experienced and he wanted to be sick. 

The feeling of nausea increased when he realised he was starting to get hard himself. John was pounding deep now, and Alex’s body was responding in spite of him.

“Fuck.” He choked it out quietly, but John caught it, and laughed. 

“You enjoying this kid? Good for you.” 

He wasn’t even being especially rough, Alex realised, it was just the shock and his own defensively clenching body that was making it worse.

He let out a shaky breath, took in a steadier one. If he could just relax it wouldn’t be so bad. 

Easier said than done, but his swelling erection betrayed the fact that this was definitely starting to feel better than it had. 

Reluctantly giving in to the guilty urge, Alex took one hand off the bench and fumbled for his own cock, starting to jerk himself roughly. A moment later he was surprised when John’s hand knocked his own out of the way and took hold of it himself.

At the feeling of a stranger’s hand around him, the unfamiliar touch gave Alex an unexpected jolt of arousal. He groaned, smacking his hand back down on the bench to brace himself as John slammed into his hole harder than ever. 

Alex closed his eyes again and rode it out, the feeling of John’s cock hot and hard inside him, of John’s calloused hand pumping him with a firm grip. None of it was welcome, but neither was it so bad any more. Alex had gone from wanting to curl up and die to wanting to come, and frankly he’d take that.

It didn’t take much longer, although Alex really didn’t want to think about the fact that what had finally made him come was the sensation of a stranger’s hot load being spilled in his guts. 

John pulled out none too gently and zipped himself up. Alex sagged weakly onto the bench, too shocked to move yet. He felt sticky and wet and dirty, but for now the glow of orgasm was blunting everything else and he clung to it.

“Better get a move on, if you’re coming.”

Alex looked up, almost surprised that John was apparently keeping his word. He scrabbled to do up his clothes and got to his feet, quickly mastering his expression. He’d had a good teacher there, at least.

John looked him over and gave him a short nod of approval. Alex felt obscurely flattered. He’d taken what the man had dished out, and he wasn’t making a fuss about it. It was nice to have his efforts appreciated.

John held up a hand for him to be quiet, and listened at the door before unlocking it. He looked into the corridor, then back at Alex. 

“Come on then. I’ll take you to the outer door, after that you’re on your own.”

Alex nodded. It was more than he’d expected, and once he was outside the compound he could retrieve his pack and make his own way back through the jungle to the boat.

John took out his gun and marched Alex down the corridor. They passed through a guard room round the next corner, and Alex realised it was a good thing he hadn’t chosen to fight, because one yell from John and they would all have come running.

It was a relief, in a way. That at least the option he’d chosen really had been the only one. And it hadn’t been as bad as he feared, in the end.

Past the rest of the guards and down another stretch of corridor and Alex could see daylight ahead. They were almost out. It was going to be okay. 

A man stepped out of a doorway just ahead of them and looked them up and down in surprise. Alex’s heart sank. It was Rodriguez, the cartel’s second in command, and the one who’d captured Alex in the first place. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

“The commandant wanted to see the prisoner,” John reported briskly. 

“Does he?” Rodriguez looked at him suspiciously. “I was just with him, he mentioned no such thing. Still, in you go.” He gestured to the door he’d just come through, and Alex’s heart sank even further. The bluff had failed. If it had even been a bluff at all. The chilling thought gripped him that John might have been sent to fetch him the whole time, and had just taken advantage of an opportunity that presented itself. 

The room inside was dimly lit, and it took Alex’s eyes a moment to adjust. There was a man seated at a table, who got to his feet as they approached. It was a small comfort to see he at least looked bemused. 

“Rider?” 

“What?” Alex and John both spoke at the same time, then looked at each other in surprise. 

“What is the meaning of this?” 

“Rider said you wanted to see the prisoner, sir,” Rodriguez reported, having followed them in. “I did think it seemed odd.”

“Rider? What’s going on?” 

John and Alex were still staring at each other in confusion.

“Alex – Rider?” John said slowly, as if a terrible realisation was slowly dawning in his mind. 

It was that, his horrified expression, that made the connection for Alex, more than anything else. John Rider looked nothing like he’d imagined, somehow. The years had not been kind to him.

“Dad?” He said it tentatively, almost hopefully, the shock of finding him alive temporarily blotting out the memory of what they’d just done.

“Oh Christ.” John had gone pale under his tan. “Oh Christ, no.”

“Will somebody tell me what is going on?” Rodriguez demanded, and Alex finally looked up to find there was a gun pointed at him. 

Before he could say anything a shot rang out, followed by a second in quick succession. Alex flinched, but he still seemed to be in one piece. 

Rodriguez and the commandant however, were both lying dead, and John had the shell-shocked expression of a man who’d just murdered his way out of a job. 

“Come on,” he said brusquely. “We need to go. Do you have transport?”

Alex nodded. “On the river. About half a day’s hike. I’ve got supplies though.” 

“Fine. Move.” 

Leaving the compound was easier than expected, John tied Alex’s hands and simply told the guard on the gate he was under orders to take him out and shoot him in the jungle so they didn’t have to bother with disposing of the body.

With the gun pressed into his back Alex had creeping shudders running up and down his spine, but as soon as they were out of sight John untied him again. He said nothing though, just followed Alex silently to where he’d hidden his kit, then into the jungle. 

They were already some way distant when the alarm was raised, faint sounds reaching them through the close packed trees, but still neither of them spoke, saving their breath for the journey. You couldn’t rush in this terrain, but it also meant pursuit would be difficult.

They trudged on, each wrapped up in his own thoughts. Alex had a thousand questions and he assumed John did too, but somehow they were all dammed up behind the terrible memory of what they’d done.

Alex, too, found the knowledge uncomfortable for other reasons. The thought that his father – and he had no doubt now, that he was – was a man who would take advantage of a teenage prisoner like that, even if he had intended to keep his side of the bargain. It didn’t sit well with the image of John so many other people had set up on a pedestal his whole life. 

It wasn’t until they reached the river that they finally spoke, other than to draw attention to a potential hazard along the way. They’d retrieved Alex’s boat, hidden safely where he’d left it, but dusk was falling and it was too dangerous to make their way downstream in the dark. There’d been no signs of pursuit so they took the opportunity to rest and eat, sitting on deck in clean clothes, watching the large moths fluttering around the lantern.

“Alex. I’m sorry.” John’s voice came out of the semi-dark, sounding like it cost him.

“Can we not,” Alex said tightly. He’d been turning the whole thing over and over in his mind for hours, and he’d decided the only way he could deal with it was to ignore the whole thing. “It didn’t happen, okay? Nothing happened.”

“Alright.” Had there been a note of relief in his voice? Alex wondered if he was letting him off lightly. But in a way, he was letting himself off too. 

“What are you even doing here?” Alex burst out. “I mean – how? You’re meant to be dead. Is – is my mother still alive too?”

“No. I’m sorry.” John at least sounded genuine in his sorrow there, Alex thought. More so than he had just now, anyway. “She was killed. An explosion. I thought – I thought you were with her,” he explained hoarsely. “You were just a baby, why wouldn’t you have been? But I was delayed that day, and – I thought I’d lost you both. There was no time. People were after me. I had to run while they still thought I was dead.”

“And you never fucking checked?” Alex asked bitterly. 

“I didn’t know there was anything to check,” John retorted. “I thought you were both dead. My choice was disappear or die too. And believe me, I considered the latter.” 

Alex was glad it was dark, and that John couldn’t see the tears welling up in his eyes. He’d spent so long wishing his father was still alive, but he’d hardly envisaged a situation like this. Jesus, what a mess. Could they get past it? They had to try, surely. 

“Who are you working for?” John asked. 

“MI6.” Alex had answered without thinking, glad of the change in subject and only then wondered if it had been wise. But John just nodded, as if it was what he’d somehow expected.

Alex wondered how to break the news that John’s brother was also dead. But there was more to that story too, that he didn’t particularly want to have to explain right now. Maybe he would tell him in the morning. Things always seemed better in daylight. 

To his relief John didn’t press with too many other questions, and they both settled down to sleep.

At least, Alex had thought so. But when he woke in the morning, the screaming chorus of night frogs giving way to that of the birds, he found he was alone. The canoe for navigating the shallows that had been strapped to the back of the launch had gone too. 

Alex ate breakfast alone, and tried unsuccessfully not to think about being fucked by his father. 

–


	2. Chapter 2

_I’m home._

Alex wasn’t sure when or even if he would get a reply to his text. While Alex still worked for MI6, Yassen had also carried on doing – whatever it was he did. Mostly consultancy these days, but his response to Alex’s enquiries was usually ‘don’t ask’, so he didn’t.

They shared a flat, sort of. They were both away a lot, and they both had more official addresses elsewhere. But when they could, they came here.

Alex shoved his dirty laundry into the washing machine, showered, poured himself a drink he didn’t want. It had been two weeks, and he still couldn’t stop the thoughts going round and round in his head. 

He desperately needed to talk to someone, but at the same time the only person he could actually tell was also the person potentially most likely to flip out over it. He never had been sure of the exact nature of Yassen’s relationship with his father. Would he be angry? Would he be sad?

Alex’s anxious pondering was interrupted by the sound of a key in the door, and he was on his feet before he had time to think. 

“Yassen?” Everything went out of Alex’s head in the sheer rush of relief at just seeing him. He crossed the floor and threw himself into Yassen’s arms, and Yassen hugged him back with a somewhat breathless laugh.

“Alex? Are you okay?” Alex just clung to him, limpet-like and Yassen frowned, realising that perhaps no, things were not okay.

“Alex?” Softer this time, holding him both closer and more gently. “Is everything alright?”

To Alex’s horror he felt actual tears pricking at his eyes, and he buried his face in Yassen’s shoulder. 

“No,” he admitted, his voice croaking. “No, it really isn’t.” 

“Can you tell me?”

Alex sniffed, trying to compose himself. This was ridiculous, he needed to be more objective. But it was all so much to deal with.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Is it classified?” Yassen asked. Alex shook his head. “Hmn. Then you can tell me, yes?” Yassen manoeuvred them both over to the large sofa and lay down, settling Alex against him in his arms. Kissed him on the forehead. “Talk to me, Alex.” 

Alex looked up at him miserably. “I don’t even know where to start.” He winced. “There are so many parts to it – and – I think some will maybe hurt you.”

Yassen held his gaze steadily. “Alex. You can tell me anything. I promise.” He considered. “Something happened? On your mission?” Alex nodded. “In South America? Something went wrong?”

Alex sighed. “I got into the place okay. Did what I had to. It was just – on the way out, I got caught. They were going to shoot me. Apparently.”

He paused again and Yassen stroked his hair back from his face, still damp from the shower. It really needed cutting, but Yassen secretly liked it this long, liked the way it framed his face. 

“You obviously escaped,” he prompted quietly. Alex nodded.

“There was a guard – a mercenary. I thought I could bribe my way out, but he didn’t want money. He wanted – something else.” Alex turned his head away, cheeks burning. 

“I see.” Yassen’s tone was perfectly level. “Did he hurt you?”

Alex shook his head. “Could’ve been worse,” he mumbled. Risked a look up. “Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be?” Yassen sounded genuinely surprised, and Alex relaxed a fraction. Except he didn’t know the worst of it yet.

“I had sex with someone else,” Alex said awkwardly. 

“Sounds like you didn’t have much of a choice.” Yassen cupped his face, stroked a thumb across his cheek. “We do what we have to. And I would rather have you alive.” 

Alex covered Yassen’s hand with his own, drew it down to clasp it between both of his. “You don’t know the rest yet,” he sighed.

“So tell me.” Yassen half-smiled. “Tell me the worst. Stop frightening yourself.”

“He told me his name was John,” Alex faltered. “But it wasn’t until – I mean, he kept his word, he was helping me escape, after – afterwards. Except we got caught again, trying to sneak out. And it wasn’t until then that I found out what his surname was.” Alex took a breath and looked up. “Rider.”

Yassen went still, his eyes the only thing moving, searching Alex’s face. “It’s – not that uncommon a name,” he said finally. “It doesn’t mean – ” 

“It was him, Yassen,” Alex interrupted defeatedly. “I mean – he didn’t know who I was either until then. I think he realised just before me.” He dropped his gaze again, sounding increasingly wretched. “He killed them. He got me out. And then, afterwards – he knew things. He said he thought I’d died with my mother. It was him, Yassen. It was my father. He’s alive. He’s alive and I let him fuck me!” 

It burst out of him then, the past two weeks of anguish, in heaving sobs. Yassen gathered him close and held him, saying nothing until he’d cried himself out.

Eventually Alex sniffled himself to a standstill, and Yassen handed him a tissue and kissed him on the forehead. 

Alex sat up a little, staring at him defensively. “Say something.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I fucked my father Yassen!”

“Yes, well. I suppose that makes two of us.”

Alex hiccuped in surprise and slapped him on the arm as a splutter of laughter escaped his lips. “Oh my God I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” 

“No, I don’t.” Alex studied his face anxiously. “You’re not angry?”

“Alex, why would I be?” Yassen shook his head. 

“You loved him. And you thought he was dead, and he isn’t and – and I had sex with him.” 

“You didn’t know who he was. And I haven’t seen him for nearly twenty years. I’m glad he’s not dead – I suppose – but other than that – ” Yassen sighed. “It was all a long time ago. A lifetime.” He reached out, tapped the end of Alex’s nose with his finger. “You’re my life now,” he said quietly. 

Alex fell forwards into his arms, and they kissed each other. 

“Are you alright?” Yassen whispered, still afraid that Alex wasn’t telling him the whole story regarding what he’d been through. “Aside from worrying about me, I mean.”

“I fucked my father,” Alex said bleakly. 

“Still better than getting shot.”

“I suppose.” Alex managed a smile.

“Definitely.” Yassen frowned. “What happened to him? Afterwards, I mean?”

“I don’t know. He vanished in the night. I thought I might catch up with him, but I never saw a sign. I suppose he might have gone back to the compound.” Alex looked at him. “Do you think he might turn up?”

“Now he knows you’re alive?” Yassen considered. “Highly possible.”

“What do we do?”

“We cross that bridge when we come to it.” Yassen kissed him again. “No point in worrying ahead of the facts.”

Alex snuggled more comfortably into his arms. “Take me to bed?” he sighed. “I need reminding how it’s supposed to feel.”

Yassen smiled. “One refresher course, coming up.”

–


End file.
